


Lab!Sync Outtakes

by madame_d



Series: Lab!Sync [4]
Category: Popslash
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-01-03
Updated: 2006-01-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 18:56:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/995368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_d/pseuds/madame_d
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, when I was finished with Lab!Sync, but not quite ready to let go of the characters or the narrative, I offered to write some scenes for people who wanted to see more of the story.  </p><p>This is a collection of requested scenes: some of them have pairings not found in the story; some of them are from the perspective of characters other than Chris or Lance (from whose point of view all three main stories are written); some of it is just a hodge-podge that didn't fit into the narrative.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kissy!Joey/Lance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For **a_karls** : a Joey/Lance kiss.

Lance's phone rings very early in the morning - too early to be his alarm - and he carefully slides from under JC to check who it is.

"Lance!" Joey exclaims boisterously once he answers, "She's here! Get your asses to the hospital."

Lance hangs up, and almost falls off the bed in his rush to get up and get dressed. Briahna Joely Fatone has finally made an appearance, after centuries (according to Joey) of Kelly being in labour.

Half an hour later, he and a very sleepy and droopy-eyed JC are at Central. Joey's brother greets them downstairs and takes them up to Maternity. They're only allowed to go in one at a time, because Kelly's room is small, so Lance changes into scrubs and enters.

Kelly looks to be sleeping, strain of exhaustion written all over her face. Joey is slowly pacing around the room, a bundle swathed in pink in his arms. He's bouncing slightly every two steps, and humming one of the solos from his recent musical - definitely _not_ suitable for children under 13 - under his breath. 

The door closes with a click and Joey turns around smoothly, a smile splitting his face in two when he sees Lance.

"Bass! You made it!" In lieu of a hug, he offers Lance his daughter. Lance's first instinct is to say, "Are you crazy? I can't!" but then he realises that he's had enough practice with his niece to know how to hold babies.

He takes her very gingerly. The baby's sleeping; he can't check her fingers and toes because they're hidden by her pink blanket, but she has a cute button nose (for now; with parents like Joey and Kelly, the girl isn't lucky in _that_ department), pale brown fuzz on her head, and long black lashes that flutter when Lance takes her, but she doesn't wake.

Lance strokes a finger over her soft-soft cheek and leans over to kiss her temple. When he looks up, Joey's staring at him.

"What? I have something on my face?"

"Lance, Kelly and I discussed this and man, I suppose I should wait till she's awake but I can't. We want you to be her godfather."

Joey looks excited and scared, all at once, and his eyes are luminous and filled with hope. Lance can't say anything except for, "Of course!"

Joey whoops silently... and kisses Lance on the lips. It's just a small, friendly peck on the mouth but before Lance has time to process, Joey's mouth is back, his lips moving gently and softly over Lance's. Lance closes his eyes and thinks that there had been a time when he really, really wanted this. Not any more, though; he has JC.

It's a tender kiss that speaks of love and affection and friendship bonds that bind closer than blood. Joey pulls away, shiny mouth and flushed face, and licks his lips.

"Thank you," he whispers to Lance.

Lance can only nod and smile in response.


	2. Lance & Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For **without_me** : Lance and Nick, talking about Chris.

Chris decides to take JC away to some conference or other over the weekend, and Lance tries to devise ways to come with because hello, he's going to miss his boyfriend while he's gone. In response, Chris says rather indifferently, "Hello, when you know enough about diabetic retinopathy to present on it, you can tag along." Lance, grasping at straws, says, "I can learn!" but he's not serious, for the most part.

JC picks up his bag, kisses Lance on the forehead and says, "Don't worry. If he tries something funny, I promise to scream really loudly."

Lance mutters, "Like he'll have a chance. Nick will kill him and I'll finish the job."

JC gives Lance a crinkle-eyed smile, kisses him softly on the mouth and off they go. An hour later, Chris calls from the airport to double-check the phone number of the hotel where they're staying. After giving him the number, Lance says gleefully, "Chris, while you're gone, can I play with Nick?"

Chris says, "As long as you put him back in the same condition you borrowed him, yes. Have fun, boys."

Lance almost skips to Histology where Nick, very grumpily, is doing H&E staining and making sure everyone in the ten-mile radius knows how unhappy he is about it. Justin isn't anywhere to be found and Lance says, "Wanna hang while boyfriends are away?"

Nick lights up in a way that almost makes Lance retract his offer, taken aback by puppy-like over-excitement, but he stands firm and waits for the assent. Nick beams, and Lance asks, "Girls' night out or boys' night out?"

Nick scrunches his nose and cocks his head, then unscrunches and raises his eyebrows. Lance chuckles and explains, "Beer and football or sweet cocktails and a conversation about boys?"

Nick ruminates on that for a few beats then admits with a sigh, "Fuck. I'm a fucking chick."

Later that night, Nick is at the kitchen island cutting lemons and oranges to go with the drinks, and Lance puts a hand on his hip to slide between Nick and the wall. Nick looks back over his shoulder with raised eyebrows and a smile, and Lance slides his hand up and curls his fingers. Nick squirms and yeah, okay, that wasn't the brightest idea ever, because there's about one foot of space between the wall and Nick, meaning even less than that when Lance is right behind Nick. They're pressed up tight, and that full-body shimmy-wriggle that Nick does right up against Lance in reaction to tickling is just plain awkward, among other things. Lance lurches sideways and barely avoids banging his shoulder against the bottom of the cupboard.

Nick pokes a pointy finger into Lance's stomach, "Don't tickle me!"

When they're sipping on something sweet and tart and impossibly purple that Lance calls a blue Cosmo and really isn't, Nick sets his glass on the coaster and says, "I know this might sound weird but ... can you tell me about Chris?"

"About Chris?" Lance echoes, shifting in his spot on the couch; he'd claimed one corner, Nick's staked the other.

"Before I knew him. While you guys were still together? Before?"

"Nick, I thought Chris told you about our non-relationshippy relationship?"

"Well, he told me about its existence but he didn't say things like, 'Oh, me and Lance were head over heels in love with each other and planning our commitment ceremony' or anything."

"That's because we weren't." Lance drains his drink and pours himself another one, "Fuck, I can't be sober for this conversation."

Lance sits up and props one elbow on the back of the sofa; with the other, he slowly twirls the glass by the stem. He thinks some more about the conversation he's about to have and drains the glass. Before he can pour another one, though, Nick takes his glass away. "That's enough, Bass. Start talking."

"Um. You know what? There's nothing much to say. Back then, Chris was the same as he is now, only less bitter. And um, he was hot and I was pining for someone else, and we hooked up after he was done teaching my section. It was good while it lasted and then we parted ways."

Lance looks up and Nick's looking at him. "Look, what the fuck do you want me to say," Lance says quietly, "I broke his fucking heart when we stopped because I thought he was falling for me and didn't want to deal with it, and I was too fucking late."

"You didn't love him?" Nick asks and puts his hand on Lance's forearm, petting soothingly. It alleviates some of the guilt and weight of memories.

"I did. I loved spending time with him and I loved that he made my mom laugh. But I wasn't _in_ love with him."

"How did you guys wind up working together?"

"We hadn't seen each other in two years; we were done by the time my junior year started. There was a campus job fair that I'd attended before graduation and Chris was there, representing this place. He put me through a fucking wringer when I gave him my resume; I was actually happy about it, would you believe it?"

Nick's "yeah," is so quiet Lance almost misses it.

"Anyway, that's the story and. Yeah."

"Are you both all right working together?"

"We wouldn't be if we weren't. But yeah. Chris wouldn't have hired me if he had a problem with us working together; he's not that much of a masochist. I think deep down he knows we make better friends, anyway."

Nick sits up and looks straight at Lance, "I love him. Like, a lot. I've been crushing for so long and I thought it was just... idol worship or something, because he's cool and funny and then... it just clicked, you know?"

Lance smiles, "You make him very happy."

Nick blushes then says, "Let's talk about your boyfriend now. What went wrong when you guys broke up?"

Lance stares at the ceiling for a moment, then says, "You know, I have no fucking idea. I think it was my fault, because I tend to mess up all my relationships, but I'm just so fucking glad we're back together. Man, I'm a sappy drunk. Pour me another drink."

"Hey, hey," Nick says and then he's sliding over, his long arms curling around Lance and pulling him against Nick's chest. Lance puts one hand on Nick's back, warm and slightly damp, and hides his face in Nick's neck. It almost feels like closure.

After a moment, Lance pulls away, "Thanks."


	3. Chris/Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For **not_nele** : Chris/Nick, first kiss.

When Nick went in for his interview, it was his first ever, and he didn't really think he'd get the job. He met with the HR lady first, of course, and she'd brought him over to the research lab. He remembers feeling overwhelmed by the large, mostly unpopulated space. There were rooms all around, filled with laboratory equipment, everything gleaming and ready to be used, and not a single person anywhere.

He was led into an office, which turned out to be secretary space for now, and introduced to a voluptuous blonde woman, Danielle, who assured him that Dr. Kirkpatrick was just about done and should be right out.

He was. Dr. Kirkpatrick turned out to be a short man in his early thirties, with dark hair and sharp, dark eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses. He was dressed casually, in khakis and a short-sleeved button-down shirt. His handshake was firm, his smile mischievous, and when he spoke, he sounded like a chipmunk on crack. Something about him caught Nick's eye instantaneously - it might've been his incessant, bouncy energy or his biting sarcasm or his smile - but it was magnetic and captivating and Nick wondered if it meant something for him, that he wanted this job so much, wanted to soak in Chris's presence, his charm, charisma, and buoyancy.

Fast-forward a year, and Nick watches Chris show Aaron some little tricks of the trade bound to entertain and impress a high-schooler, yet not overwhelm with its high-level science. Aaron says something and Chris lights up, smiling hugely, ruffling Aaron's hair and slinging his arm over Aaron's shoulder as he leads him out the microscope room, and in Nick's head, something clicks and he wonders why it's taken him so long to get this and why it hadn't occurred to him to talk to Lance.

A mini two-day experiment later that reveals that yup, Nick's heart does beat faster whenever he sees Chris, or thinks of Chris, or imagines Chris, and that yup, Nick is a total teenage girl. Nick's desperate to do something and scared to try, all at once. He knows that while Chris isn't loud about it, he doesn't hide his sexuality either. Nick's pretty sure that's what Lance meant when Nick had asked him about Chris dating or having a girlfriend and Lance's snort had been so loud it could've been heard in Alaska.

Finally, he gathers up his courage and catches up with Chris in the hallway between the bathrooms.

"Hey, what's up?" Chris asks when Nick calls his name, and Nick's brain freezes.

"I uh... I mean..." Nothing comes out as explanation so Nick takes a pretty huge risk, bends down and presses his lips to Chris's, just for a moment.

He'd never imagined what it would be like, kissing Chris, because he hadn't ever thought it would happen. So, he's completely unprepared when Chris breathes, "Nick," against his mouth and pulls his head back down. A slight shift has Nick slouched against the wall, Chris standing between his thighs, Chris's hands moving softly over Nick's face, thumbs stroking his cheekbones, just as Chris's lips are moving softly over Nick's. Nick opens up and Chris presses closer, his tongue slick against Nick's. Nick hasn't ever kissed another man before but his brain is shutting down under the assault of Chris's mouth and he doesn't have spare brain cells to analyze the difference.

One of them moans and Chris draws back slowly, mouth red and swollen and shiny. Chris licks his lips and runs the side of his thumb over Nick's bottom lip, Nick licking at it almost subconsciously.

"What-" Chris clears his throat and tries again, "What was that?"

Suddenly, Nick feels that his feet are the most fascinating things in the world. He shrugs one shoulder. "I'm sorry?" He whispers.

Chris cups Nick's cheek, makes Nick face him. "I'm not, if you meant it."

Nick smiles shyly and nods.

Chris leans his forehead against Nick's and says, wonder in his voice, "Fuck, you're adorable. And man, we really, really shouldn't. But. Want to have dinner with me tonight?" One of Chris's hands is pressed against Nick's lower back, rubbing gently in circles.

Nick beams and almost says 'yes' but then he remembers his brother, "Aaron - "

"Ask Lance or Justin to entertain him. Have dinner with me, Nicky." Nick tries to say something else but Chris's hand slides under his shirt, palm warm against Nick's bare skin, still rubbing gentle circles. Nick can't think. "Yeah, okay."

Chris leans in to kiss him again. Nick cradles the back of Chris's head in his palm and smiles into the kiss; he has a good feeling about this. They can deal with the consequences later. Much later.


	4. Mushy!Chris/Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For **genee** : Just random kissy!Chris/Nick.

It's scorching hot outside and when Chris gets to the lab he sees his boyfriend, whom he'd missed that morning, wearing a loose basketball jersey. Chris puts his hand on Nick's bare, golden shoulder and slides it down to the elbow in a gentle caress, the skin soft under his palm. "No visible ink," he says and, after a quick glance around, belies his words with a tender kiss, right on the shark on Nick's left arm. Nick rolls his shoulders, tattoos glistening with sweat that Chris can feel on his lips; Nick must've just arrived because the temperature inside the lab is approaching sub-Antarctic.

Nick sticks his lower lip out and shrugs into a lab coat. Chris watches regretfully as the smooth, tanned skin disappears under white cotton/poly blend, and turns around to leave, when AJ (who's with them again this week) and Justin walk through the door, the former in a black t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, and the latter in a tight grey beater.

They're both gesturing wildly and seem to be talking about their tattoos. Chris watches Justin almost run his finger over the tribal design on AJ's left shoulder, watches AJ's mouth curve in a small smirk as if tempting Justin to touch and, when they get close enough to nod greetings at him, Chris says, "No visible ink."

AJ spreads his arms, all his numerous tattoos on proud display, and says, "You want me to cover up all this beauty? Justin will pout."

"Justin will live," Chris says over Justin spluttering that Justin is _right there._ "C'mon boys, lab coats for all."

"But Chris," Justin says in a sulky tone, "it's _hot_ out."

"Yup. And it's - " Chris looks at the thermostat on the wall, "only sixty-eight degrees inside the lab. Into the lab coat with you."

Chris sails out of the lab before any of them realise that his short sleeve doesn't even come close to covering up the entirety of the brightly-coloured tattoo on his right shoulder. Whoops.

A few minutes later, Nick barges into Chris's office, lab coat tails flying. Chris barely has time to look around before he's pressed up against the wall and kissed breathless.

"Hey you," Chris whispers when he's finally let go. He licks his lips, tasting Nick, Nick and more Nick, with a tinge of coffee underneath.

"Hi. How did the appointment go?"

Chris cringes and shrugs, "I'll live, blah blah, do I want a surgery, blah blah." Nick's looking at him, his gaze steady and serious, and Chris runs his hands up Nick's chest and slides his lab coat off. It gets caught at Nick's elbows but enough skin is revealed that Chris can cup one shoulder in his hand and trace his tongue over the tribal band around Nick's right bicep, the other hand stroking Nick's stomach under his jersey.

When Chris finally looks up, Nick's eyes are bright and unfocused and Chris mutters, "God, what are we doing? Lance walked in on us before; with our luck, next time it'll be Johnny."

Nick shudders, desire sliding off his face along with his smile. "I'm going back to work now." He shrugs the lab coat into place and buttons it meticulously all the way down.

At the door, Nick turns around and says primly, "See you at lunch?" Chris waggles his fingers at him and, when Nick's gone, places a bet with himself that Nick will be back within 30 minutes.


	5. Clubbing!AJ/Justin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For **iconis** and **unholyglee** : AJ and Justin go clubbing.

Lance says slyly, "You know, I'm afraid we have plans for tonight already but why don't you take Justin? He's flying solo and still in the process of self-discovery." He takes Nick by the arm and pulls him out of the lab a millisecond before Justin processes what he'd said and starts spluttering.

When Justin's done, he looks up and AJ's watching him. AJ's head is down but he's looking up from under his long dark eyelashes and that alone is enough to be disconcerting. Justin backs up till the bench top digs into his ass, and when AJ raises his head and actually looks at him, his breath catches. Not in a girly way, but in a 'really-fucking-unnerved' kind of way.

"So. We going out tonight?"

Justin gulps, "I uh... I'm not... whatever they said it's not... I mean.. uh. Raincheck?" He finishes lamely and AJ grins, the same easy, dorky smile he'd given Justin a few days ago, when Justin suggested they get a cat to help find the drugged runaway mouse.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" AJ coos at him, in a low soft voice, and Justin wishes he'd stop that.

"Uh. No. Of course not. It's just - "

"Why does Lance think you're questioning things?"

Justin flushes, "Because I happened to ask uhm - " he realises he can't say anything because Nick still hadn't come out to AJ and finishes, "I asked some questions? And look, I work with four guys, who are paired off; how would _you_ feel if you were straight?"

AJ smirks and says with a shrug, "I'm not." He pulls away from the wall he's been leaning against and walks toward Justin, and Justin tries to melt into the bench top, but he's got nowhere to go.

AJ stops right within Justin's personal space and says, "Look. I think you're too hung up on the whole gay and straight thing. I want some company when I'm going clubbing tonight, that's all. Now, you wanna come or not?"

Justin imagines the kind of taunting and teasing he'll get from the rest of his coworkers if he chickens out, squares his shoulders and says, "Yeah. Why not?"

"Great," AJ claps him on the shoulder and heads out the door, "I'll pick you up? I am always the designated driver these days; you might as well use that. Come find me before you leave to tell me where your place's at."

Justin does as told and by 9:30pm, he's sitting in AJ's very sensible black (of course) car as they speed down the road toward the club. Once inside, he sends AJ off to find them a table and heads for the bar to get them drinks. Looking over the tops of people's heads searching for AJ, Justin's glad he's so tall; the place is packed. He finally finds AJ sitting at a table in the corner, lazily waggling his fingers, held at chest-level, in Justin's general direction. If Justin weren't tall and sharp-sighted, he never would've found AJ.

He plops the bottle of Pepsi on the table and says, "They didn't have Coke; I hope this is okay."

AJ nods at the glass bottle in Justin's other hand and says, "I hope you got whatever you wanted; I should've said earlier that I don't mind if you drink in my presence. I mean, I don't drink but that doesn't mean you can't."

Justin turns the bottle around so that AJ could read the label, "Beer. And thanks. I wasn't sure so, I was going to hide it and drink it when you went to the dance floor or something."

AJ lowers his glasses and looks at Justin over them so intently that Justin has to fight the urge to look around and see what young, pretty thing AJ's ogling.

Then, he focuses on the dance floor and his jaw drops. "McLean! You brought me to a gay club?" He hates the way his voice breaks at the end, but... well, AJ isn't playing fair.

"I brought you to a gay club on its mixed night," AJ corrects calmly. "No harm, no foul; go hit on some girl, and boys will mostly leave you alone."

"That's what I'm worried about," Justin mutters, "hitting on a wrong girl and getting bitch-slapped for it."

AJ rolls his eyes, gets off his stool and drags it closer to Justin's. When he sits down again, he's directly behind Justin, forearms rested on Justin's shoulders, his face so close that he's breathing into Justin's ear. Justin fights the urge to squirm or move away, if only because he knows that AJ's testing him, testing his limits, and he feels a ridiculous desire to pass AJ's coolness test.

"You're way too obsessed with labels and definitions; gay and straight. Women can comment on each other's looks without being labelled 'lesbian,' yet men are so afraid to compliment each other for fear of being called 'gay.' Sex is sex, love is love; what does it matter where you find it or what gender The One is, as long as you do find it? Labels limit us to only half the population; wouldn't you prefer to have all your options open?"

AJ takes a sip of his soda and hooks his chin over Justin's shoulder, pointing to a couple on the dance floor. At first glance, Justin can't even tell if they're boys or girls: they're very pretty, thin and androgynous, dressed almost identically and in black head to toe, eyeliner and black nail polish and messy black spikes of hair. One is thinner, curvier, and just as Justin decides that it's a girl, the person turns around in the partner's embrace and yeah, a girl wouldn't have a bulge at the crotch like _that._ Probably.

Finally, Justin decides that it's a pair of goth boys but by then, it doesn't even matter; they're gyrating slowly in a hypnotizing dance, and Justin feels like a cobra transfixed by a snake charmer. AJ taps him on the shoulder and Justin looks up and over, bumping his nose into AJ's cheek.

"Whoops," he says, embarrassed.

"They," AJ points, "are beautiful. You can't deny it."

Justin shrugs; what can he say?

AJ gets up, "C'mon, let's dance."

Justin frowns down at him, "What, like, together?"

AJ heaves a sigh, "Timberlake, I ain't trying to take you home, just a dance. I don't see anything I like, can't you take one for the team? C'mon, show me what you got." He wraps his fingers around Justin's wrist and pulls. Justin steps off the stool and tries to shift sideways, turn away, but AJ's already noticed it, his eyes flickering down then up to look right at Justin. Justin blushes but AJ doesn't say anything, just smirks.

AJ's a great dancer and so is Justin, only there's more of him to wield, flex, and undulate. Justin thinks they probably create quite a show on the dance floor because he and AJ almost have a dance-off. AJ would make a move and Justin would copy it and add to it, both of them showing off shamelessly.

That is, until AJ grabs Justin's wrist and whirls him around so that Justin winds up plastered against AJ, knees to chest, AJ looking up at him over his eyeglasses and batting his eyelashes as innocently as he can, which isn't at _all._ And oh, AJ's hand is somehow on Justin's ass. The song changes and there's scattered applause from dancers and voyeurs that had been watching them. Justin steps away and AJ smacks him lightly on the ass, "You're good. Buy you a drink?"

Well, why the hell not? "Yeah. Thanks."


	6. LetterBoys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For **trumpeterofdoom** : JC finally gets that coveted backrub from AJ.

It's JC's last day and he is feeling exhilarated and sad all at once. Sad because he'll be leaving his friends and boyfriend, and while he'll see the latter at home, it would be much harder to find the time to see Chris, Nick, Justin, AJ and the rest of the research staff from other departments once he starts in the hospital. Yet, exhilarated because... well. He's more excited about going back to clinical work than he'd told Lance; he's afraid if he'd told Lance just how *much* he'd missed working at the hospital, Lance will kick him to the curb.

JC pulls open the top drawers of his desk and starts the long and tedious task of clean-up. Most of the stuff can be either trashed or recycled - printed-out papers, old magazines, a couple of paper towels with notes to self written in purple Sharpie - but other stuff, such as his surgical instruments and his lab notebooks and office supplies, will need to be examined and given to appropriate sources. Office supplies go to Justin, who's inexplicably in love with them, notebooks go to Dani to be filed and stored, and the placement for surgical tools is yet to be determined.

"Hey, last day?" JC raises his head and there's AJ lounging in the doorway.

JC nods. "I never realised how much junk I've accumulated in just two years."

AJ smiles, "Lance ever call you a pack-rat?"

JC squints at him, "Noooooo. Should he have?"

AJ wisely holds his tongue but comes closer. "You want help?"

JC surveys the mess around him and says, "Why don't you pull out a couple of drawers, put them on Lance's desk or something, and take everything out. Sort by papers, office supplies and 'other.'"

"Lance won't mind us using his desk?"

"Lance's desk is pristine and the only free surface around here. He brought this on himself," JC declares.

AJ does as told, turning away to deposit the drawers onto Lance's desk but turns back to JC as soon as he hears the clink of steel on steel that is JC removing his instruments from their tray.

AJ leans over JC's shoulder, so close that JC can feel his body heat through both their clothes, breath feathering JC's ear, and exclaims, "Man, you have the [Crafoord-Sellors forceps](http://medicor.web2go.hu/upload/product/RG/rg-733-03.gif)? I want!"

JC blinks, "Uh. I was going to give these to Lance, actually..."

"What would Lance want with your tools? He doesn't even do surgery!"

Point. JC looks at AJ, still ogling the forceps and possibly seconds away from petting them. And people call _JC_ strange.

"Uh. Well. Lance could give the tray to Chris, thus relieving me of the trouble of figuring out what to do with them?"

AJ bends down more, his stomach pressing into JC's shoulder. JC wonders when AJ will realise just how uncomfortable he is; JC's shoulder is _bony_ , and JC can feel AJ breathing through their point of contact.

"JC. JC, look. If you give me the forceps, I'll give you a backrub." AJ finally pulls back and gives JC his widest-eyed, most-innocent puppy-look to go with the deal.

Frankly, JC would've given him the forceps for free, he's not attached to them at _all_ , but well. AJ. With his magical fingers. And who's offered a backrub. JC's no fool; he's not turning _this_ deal down.

"Okay. Get to work, backrub boy."

JC leans his elbows on the desk and shifts his weight forward.

AJ's fingers are _cold_ , JC can feel the chill of them through two layers of cotton shirts he's wearing. Soon, though, they warm up from the friction and JC relaxes his shoulders. AJ's hands really are wonderful: his fingers are strong and he knows exactly how much pressure to exert and at what pace to go. JC finds himself nodding off and making small noises of pleasure, especially when AJ brings his hands up to JC's neck and rubs around the knobs of vertebrae.

"You're really really good at this, you know," JC says finally, after almost a full minute of continuous moany noises.

"Thanks. My teacher would be glad to hear it," AJ says and presses down hard. JC whimpers in pain but the tension knot dissolves and there's a sharp sense of relief.

"Teacher?"

"I took classes," AJ says, moving his hands down to massage between JC's shoulder blades, "it was to help me find my zen or whatever, after I uh... quit drinking. I have a certificate and everything; worked part-time as a masseur to help with college."

"Oh," is all JC can say and even that dissolves in a pained moan, "Okay, ow."

"Sorry, you're fucking tense, babe. What has Lance been doing to you?" AJ's tone is teasing but the tips of JC's ears burn, anyway. "Heh, forget I asked."

JC lets the 'babe' thing slide and they're silent for a few moments, until AJ's pressing his fingers into JC's lower back. Something unclicks or clicks into place and it feels really good.

"Okay, I think you've earned the forceps. You want the whole tray?"

AJ pulls on the hem of JC's outer shirt, smoothing it out, and straightens up. "For real? You're giving me your instruments? You rock, man, thanks!"

He snags the tray off the table and slinks out of the office with a smile of a cat that got the cream. JC bends backwards to unkink his spine, hearing it pop, and rolls his shoulders. Backrubs rule.


	7. Lance/Justin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Initially, the second part of Lab!Sync was supposed to go very differently: after JC and Lance break up, the story was to turn into JC/Joey and Lance/Justin. Except that I was very firmly told that a) Joey would never do that to Lance and b) it would make it really freaking awkward for _everyone_ in the lab. So, the scene where Lance and Justin sleep together (just sleep) was originally written as more than that: bad decisions all around.
> 
> For **a_karls** and **sparklingjadex**

Chris delegates the duty of getting Lance home to Justin, because Justin's going that way already; he just has to do it earlier and with different company than he otherwise would've liked. They take a cab back to the building, and Justin helps Lance out of the car, up the stairs, into the elevator and to his door.

While Justin tries to get the keys out of Lance's pocket, he feels up Lance quite a bit, which Lance mistakes for invitation and grabs Justin's hand, keeping it pressed to his crotch. Justin makes a choked sound, switches keys to a different hand, and manages to get the door unlocked without any incident. Then, Lance is dragged inside and dropped, not at all gently, onto his bed. He does, of course, manage to get tangled up in a knot of legs, so Lance winds up on his back with Justin sprawled across him, grunting as they collide.

Justin attempts to get up but manages to dig his elbow into Lance's stomach and Lance groans, wrapping his arm around Justin's waist and rolling them over. There are other ways to make Justin stop crushing his internal organs but this seems to be the fastest and easiest.

Lance props himself up on his elbows and looks down at Justin. Justin's lips are parted and he's taking tiny panting breaths, eyes wide and panic-stricken. Lance would ask what the problem is, but when he shifts to roll off, he feels it. 

Justin's hard. 

The token straight-boy Timberlake is hard. Lance blinks, processing the information and knows the exact moment when Justin realises that Lance knows; Justin flushes a bright red from his collarbones up into his hairline, closing his eyes and throwing his arm over them.

And. Well, what the hell? Lance grinds down, slowly and deliberately, letting Justin know he's doing it on purpose, not accidentally. When Justin makes a small, choked noise but fails to uncover his face, Lance wraps his fingers around Justin's wrist, pulse rabbiting under his fingertips, and pulls Justin's arm off his face.

Justin's still flushed, and his eyes are huge, the pupil dilated so wide the iris is barely visible. Justin bites his lower lip, flushing an even darker red, if possible, and Lance lets go of Justin's wrist and runs his hand down Justin's side, underneath his shirt, feeling ribs and smooth flesh. 

Justin's still not moving, though his breathing speeds up a notch (or five), and he's still biting his lips like there's no tomorrow. Feeling evil, Lance walks his fingers up Justin's chest and pinches a nipple.

Justin whimpers and finally breaks into action, wrapping an arm around Lance's waist and a hand around the back of Lance's head, pulling him closer and sealing their lips together. Lance knows he tastes like whiskey and a myriad of fruity cocktails he'd consumed but Justin tastes like coffee, and Lance wonders what he'd been drinking at the Barstool.

Justin's stubble prickles at Lance's face and he turns a little, the better to rub his cheek against Justin's. He tilts his head, adjusting the angle, because Justin's gasping aloud now, and his hand isn't doing much to support Lance's head; he's kneading the muscles of Lance's neck now. Lance sucks Justin's tongue into his mouth and starts rocking gently against Justin, bumping their hips together, wriggling until their cocks, still confined to pants, are aligned for best results.

Justin tears his mouth away, panting loudly, and Lance kisses along his jawline toward the jugular, biting and sucking a hickey into easily-marked skin of Justin's neck. Justin's hand is back at Lance's nape, holding him in place when Lance would've pulled away, and Lance takes that as a sign that he needs to keep going, sucking and licking. Tomorrow, this will be a spectacular bruise.

Lance moves his head to kiss Justin again and Justin parts his lips readily, the tip of his tongue between his lips, ready to come play in Lance's mouth. Lance laughs into the kiss and feels Justin's hands moving, finally, roving over his back and tucking into the waistband of his slacks. Lance rolls his hips in suggestion when the hands stop, and Justin, possibly having overcome his doubts, slides his hands further in. 

Lance likes his pants to fit well, unlike JC, whose pants are always falling off his hips, so Justin's hands get stuck in the waistband before they get too far. Lance gets a hand between them, undoing the button and the zipper for them both. It's only meant to help Justin in his quest to touch Lance's ass, but Lance feels Justin's heat through the open vee of Justin's pants and he can't stop. 

He slides his hand inside, feeling damp heat and kinky hair before wrapping his fingers around Justin's dick. Justin moans into Lance's mouth, hands tightening convulsively into the flesh of Lance's ass and that's that, Justin's exploration of Lance's charms will just have to wait.

One last kiss to Justin's reddened and swollen mouth and Lance is sliding down Justin's body, taking the pants and underwear with him. They're both still wearing shoes, so Lance just leaves the clothes tangled with the shoes around Justin's ankles, comes back up and buries his face in Justin's belly.

Justin whimpers after a first lick, moans and bucks up as soon as Lance takes him into his mouth, and comes, crying out gutturally when Lance deep-throats him. Lance licks his lips and sits back on his heels, smirking with satisfaction; Justin had barely lasted three minutes.

Lance waits for Justin to get over the afterglow and come to, and raises his eyebrow inquisitively when Justin slowly opens his eyes, lashes fluttering as he struggles to keep them open. Justin blushes again, bright-red over the soft flush of orgasm, and clears his throat delicately.

Lance keeps looking. Justin's pants are around his ankles, his button-down still mostly in place, though incredibly wrinkled, and there's an angry-looking hickey on Justin's neck. Justin's face is red, beard-burnt around the mouth, lips swollen and slick-looking, teeth indents marking the lower lip where Justin's been biting it when Lance blew him.

Justin blinks, lashes sweeping down as he lowers his gaze to Lance's erection peeking through the open front of Lance's pants. And then he's reaching out to push Lance's pants lower on his hips and extending his arm, fingers wrapping tentatively around Lance's dick. Lance wraps a hand over Justin's, adjusting his hold, showing him through touch what he likes and how he likes it. Justin's hand is moving slowly and Lance wonders if it's nerves or just inexperience. Lance throws his head back, rolling his hips in attempt to speed up Justin's pace, and Justin finally gets with the program. When Lance comes, he splatters the entire front of Justin's shirt, before tumbling off Justin's legs onto the bed.

Lance doesn't really remember much of what happens next, but in the morning he wakes up snuggled up in Justin's arms, both of them under the covers and wearing only their underwear. Lance rolls over and out of Justin's embrace, wondering if anything had happened the night before. Then, he sees Justin's shirt wadded up in a ball on the floor and it all comes rushing back.

Lance looks back at Justin and yeah, that hickey is pretty spectacular. Justin's cheeks are still red with beard-burn, the area around his mouth a much darker red, his lips still swollen-looking. There's a bite-mark on his collarbone; Lance doesn't even remember putting it there.

Lance is not JC; he can't turn straight boys bi-curious and willing on the spot. So, what the hell happened? Lance wonders if he's cursed to define his life by cliches; one night of drunken fucking with a straight friend? Check.

Lance twitches at the thought, and the jolt wakes up Justin, who slowly opens his eyes, smiling and stretching as he does, back popping.

"Hi," he murmurs, looking at Lance from under his long lashes.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Lance mutters, throwing back the covers and scrambling out of bed. Justin's words stop him.

"Is that how you always are the morning after?"

"The morning after what?" Lance snaps back, because the idea of having had his rebound with token straight-boy Timberlake is making him nauseated. He can't blame the alcohol or the drinking, but Lance definitely feels like throwing up.


	8. JC/Joey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For **carta** : what _really_ happened between JC and Joey (that Lance spent so long wondering about).

They're at the Barstool, celebrating the successful termination of the pig surgery trials, and Joey, back in town again, has joined them to celebrate. Joey's being very touchy and JC, starved for physical affection, welcomes it. He arches his back when Joey strokes it, leans into the touch when Joey wraps an arm around JC's waist, and smiles blissfully when Joey runs his fingers through JC's short hair.

JC's avoiding looking at Lance, because they aren't together any more, and not looking is easier than looking. Besides, Lance is busy getting trashed and not-looking as well, so what's the point in glancing in Lance's direction if the glances wouldn't be noticed anyway?

A little while later, and JC realises that he is quite tipsy himself; fruity drinks on an empty stomach, and he has no tolerance to speak of. And then, there's Joey's arm around his waist and JC is helped out of the bar. The cool night air helps dispel the dizziness, but the alcohol still fizzles in JC's blood stream, making him think crazy thoughts. And, somewhere between the front door of the condo complex and the front door of his apartment, JC figures that kissing Joey would be a great idea.

It is a fabulous idea; Joey's a fantastic kisser and his beard is softly-scratchy, tickling at JC's chin and cheeks. Joey's hands are roving all over JC's back, sliding down to his ass to squeeze before going up again, rubbing over the curve of JC's waist. 

JC hadn't even realised that Joey's not that straight until he's got Joey's tongue in his mouth, one of Joey's hands in his hair, and another on his ass, kneading gently. It's not that JC has no gaydar - Lance pinged as soon as he and JC met - but there's something about Joey, something comfortable and comforting, that hadn't set off any sensors. And, well, Joey seems to be enjoying it, and if he were totally straight, surely JC would be flat on his ass by now?

JC hums happily and thinks that getting sexed up right now is a very good idea. He wraps his arms tighter around Joey... and feels himself being gently pushed back.

JC opens his eyes, taking in Joey's flushed face and slick lips, and wonders why they'd stopped.

"JC, no."

JC opens his mouth to ask why, but Joey anticipates it, fingers pressed against JC's lips, stopping the flow of words.

"Yes, I'm inclined this way. Yes, I really enjoyed kissing you. But no, I can't do this to Lance. He's my best friend, man; I'm all for you having a rebound but it can't be with me. I'm sorry."

And Joey really looks it, the corners of his mouth and his eyes drooping sadly. JC straightens his spine, standing up straight at his full height, pulls his keys from his pocket and gets the apartment door open.

Once he's standing in the doorway, he turns around to face Joey and says, "I fucking hate Lance." 

He slams the door in Joey's face, but not before he sees Joey smile. Bastard.


	9. Chris/Nick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For **chrismm** : Chris/Nick, first time.

Chris is the first to admit that sometimes, he's chock-full of idiotic ideas. Example A: he'd hired an ex-boyfriend to work with him in the lab. Example B: he'd hooked up with and is dating another one of his subordinates.

When Nick says, however, that it's stupid that Chris won't let Nick blow him and that Chris refuses to fuck him, Chris has to disagree. He's curiously protective of Nick's still-short exposure to all things boy-on-boy-centric, and Chris is afraid that if he rushes things, Nick will run the other way and never look at boys ever again. And wouldn't that be sad?

The blowjob issue was resolved yesterday. Nick's a big boy; he's much taller than Chris and outweighs him, and whereas some of Chris's solidity has turned to flab by now, Nick's solidly muscled. So, when Nick pounced on him last night, declaring Chris an idiot and sucking Chris's dick into his mouth, Chris decided to be wise, not say a word and just enjoy the ride.

His success, of course, had made Nick super-confident.

They've just moved the making-out portion of the evening from the couch to the bed and Nick's wiggling out of his pants while trying to keep Chris on top of him. Chris is so distracted by all that golden flesh undulated beneath him that he says, "Yes, baby," without a single concern about what he's agreeing to. It is only at Nick's triumphant, "HA!" that Chris realises that he just might've played into his young lover's hands.

"What did I just agree to?" He hopes it's not a pony; he has no space for a pony at the apartment.

Nick leans up and whispers hotly into Chris's ear, "You agreed to fuck me."

Chris narrows his eyes at him.

"I don't understand what your problem is," Nick declares, frowning. "You hate topping that much? I mean, what? We've been doing this for a month! I asked Lance and he doesn't know what's wrong with you either, because according to him, you love asses and that I have such a great and lush one that you shouldn't be able to resist."

Chris makes a face, "You talked to _Lance_ about this? Ack."

Nick shrugs sheepishly, "Would you rather I asked a complete stranger why my boyfriend wouldn't fuck me? I mean, I figured your ex would be the lesser of two evils."

"Lance is always the bigger evil," Chris mutters.

Nick laughs, his entire body shaking with it, and some parts of Nick are more bouncy than others, which reminds Chris—

"Hey, where were we and why did we stop?" Chris leans down, covering Nick's laughing mouth with his own, smiling into the kiss because a happy Nick is a beautiful Nick, and then mentally groaning over the cheesiness of his thoughts.

And then, Nick's pulling Chris's t-shirt off, his warm hands scrabbling over Chris's back when Chris slides down Nick's body to finally get his mouth on Nick's dick, and Chris stops thinking at all.


	10. Science!babble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For **nopseud** : here be lots of science!babble. With a caveat that, this having been written in 2006, is about 7 year out of date, _although_ the Taqman machine still exists, and the protocol it uses is still very similar. Depends on your samples, starting genetic material (RNA vs DNA; no need to RT with the latter), etc.

When JC said that getting a Taqman machine would mean less work for their peons, he was serious. He's teaching Nick and Justin the protocol, and watches their faces light up upon realization that they get to do real-time PCR with under twenty minutes of prep-time _and_ actual quantitative results, all in less than three hours.

"So, you know how your RT reaction is 20 microliters, total? You add 80 microliters of water to that, and use only 5 microliters of cDNA per reaction, with Taqman. Master mix contains your control, in this case 18S, whose values should be the same for your samples across the board. Whichever target gene you're running, your 18S values should always be relatively the same."

Nick looks up from his notepad and says, "So, if I do ten runs with the same samples, and on eleventh, I get screwy results, what does that mean?"

JC cocks his head, "What do you think?"

"Contamination?" Justin suggests.

"Possibly. Or poor pipetting. Or bubbles on the bottom of the well. If you get bubbles on the top, they'll burst once the plate is heated, but if you have huge air space in the bottom of the well, the laser won't get an accurate reading because of it." 

Nick says, "Right. But that's the machine. You kind of veered off course there."

"Oh! Master mix!" JC looks at the little cheat-sheet in his hand. "So, basically, you have the 'machine mix'," he does Chris's finger-quotes, "which is a proprietary mix to be used with the machine. And your 18S, water, and your target gene mix, which is made up of water, your primers, and fluorescent probe."

JC leafs through the folder he'd prepared for this meeting, getting out a sheet with the protocol (that gives instructions along the lines of 'pipette carefully,' and 'mix this,' and 'vortex that,' and 'spin plate') and a chart with all the amounts of the ingredients to make up a target mix and a master mix.

"You have to save your run before you actually run it because the machine won't start the run unless you do. On the upside, everything is stored on the computer the machine's attached to, so if the previous run is done and, say, Justin is nowhere to be found, then you, Nick, can throw out his plate and Justin's results will still be saved on the hard-drive."

"How sensitive are the enzymes? Can you set up a reaction in advance and leave it till it's your time to use the machine?" Nick asks without raising his head, this time, pen flying over his notepad as he's writing something down. JC wonders if Nick's got his exact quotes written down.

"You can set up in advance, seal the plate and leave it in the fridge. They don't recommend storing it over four? Six hours, or something, because probes are fluorescent."

"So, should we wrap the plate in foil, then?" Justin suggests.

"Sure, can't hurt."

Nick finally finishes writing and looks up, twirling the pen between his fingers. JC finds himself following the movement of the pen, its weaving pattern oddly hypnotic, so he shakes his head and looks at his apt pupils, instead.

"So, any questions?"

Justin raises his arm timidly, and says, "I don't know how to RT?"

Nick and JC exchange a look and simultaneously do a face-plant onto the desk. They're all laughing, and when JC peeks up from behind his arms, he sees Justin poking Nick in the shoulder and saying in a teasing voice, "Bad teacher, bad teacher!" 


End file.
